


What's In a Name?

by Gimmemore



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Dealing With Loss, Emotional Compromise, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death, Loss, M/M, Movie: Star Trek Generations (1994), Possessive Spock (Star Trek), Post-Movie: Star Trek Generations (1994), Protective Spock (Star Trek), Star Trek: Generations Fix-It, T'hy'la, T'hy'la bond, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Vulcan Bond, Vulcan Mind Melds, dealing with death, dealing with grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 04:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimmemore/pseuds/Gimmemore
Summary: Spock knew a visit had to happen.  They would have to inform him.  But when the visitor came, what Spock learned would cause him to alter time itself to regain what he had lost.





	What's In a Name?

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the 2018-19 T'hy'la Bang.
> 
> Many thanks to my partner for the beta read and to Raven who also edited, suggested, read, and supported me the whole way through.

The security system’s computer announced his visitor yet again as he remained anchored where he stood, staring in trepidation at the door. There was no choice left but to open it, though his mind, his body, his very _katra_ railed against what came with it; an acknowledgment he did not want to face.  But whether he opened it or not, it would make no difference.  What had transpired, what had been done, could not be undone.

With a smooth step towards the door that belied his inner struggles, he placed one hand on identification pad to the side of the door and murmured, “Authorize entry.”  The door unlocked with a trilling beep and several clicks before it swished open, revealing his guest.

“Captain Picard.”  He gave a small nod of deference to the current captain of the USS Enterprise.

Picard was solemn but gave a small smile of sympathy.  “Ambassador Spock.  I wish I were visiting under different circumstances.”

Spock stepped back, gesturing inside.  “As do I, captain.  Though neither of us are responsible for the situation.”  It was a factually accurate statement, but it did not assuage his heart, which screamed its dissent in anguish.  He surely felt as if he were to blame.  If only he had refused to accept Starfleet’s answers so long ago, searched longer and harder, then perhaps this moment would never need to exist.

Spock led Picard to the couch, and they sat, rather stiffly, one at each end.  Several moments passed.  Neither one wanted to break the fragile stillness with what they knew would follow.

Picard sighed, breaking the uncomfortable silence first.  With a small cough to clear his throat, he began with, “Ambassador, on behalf of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets – “

“Please, captain,” Spock interrupted.  “You have use of my name and I do not need, nor require, such formalities.  I would prefer you simply tell me what happened.”

“Then I insist the same.  Please, call me Jean-Luc.”

Spock inclined his head in concession and Picard began his explanation of how the Enterprise and her crew became involved with an El Aurian named Dr. Tolian Soran; a man who cared only about returning to a temporal ribbon called the nexus at any costs.  Soran had been part of the forty-seven refugees Jim helped save along with the crew of the Enterprise B seventy-eight years ago.  The same fateful day that had forever changed his life.  Picard had also learned that a valued member of his crew, Guinan, was one of the rescued refugees. 

He listened as Picard recalled the events: his attempts to sway Soran from his goal, but ultimately failing, Soran launching the missile into Veridian’s star, and their being swept into the nexus.  Jean-Luc continued, relaying his experience in the nexus, but when it came time to talk about Jim, Picard stumbled and paused.  Spock’s eyebrow raised in query.

“I think, perhaps, I would prefer to show you rather than tell you.”

His eyebrow rose higher.  “You suggest a meld?”

Picard was not a man known to fidget and yet he did so, appearing unsettled.  “I would rather not get anything wrong and perhaps, seeing him as I saw him, hearing the words ‘direct from the horse’s mouth’, as the saying goes, would be better?”

Spock was not sure he agreed.  Picard had seen Jim, been in his presence, if only for a short time.  To see Jim would likely do no more than add to his grief.  And though he knew it was uncalled-for, jealousy crept into his thoughts.  Why had he been denied such a privilege?  But Jean-Luc was correct in one regard.  The meld would provide a more precise remembrance of the events.  The memory recall of humans was imperfect at best.

“Very well.  With your consent, I will meld with you to obtain the memories.”

“I consent,” came the swift reply.

“If you will concentrate on the memories specific to the nexus and Jim, it will aid in locating them.”  Picard nodded.  Steeling himself against the sense of dread and grief pooling in his gut, Spock moved closer to Picard, lifted his hand, and placed his fingers on Picard’s psi points.  The ritualistic words, spoken numerous times before, tumbled easily from his lips.  “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.”

The meld was uncomplicated, eased by Jean-Luc’s prior experience with them; in particular, a significant one with his father, Sarek.  In fact, the captain’s mind felt almost… _familial_.

They walked briefly through Jean-Luc’s mind, following the misty trail of his concentration until they came to the memories.  Spock pulled them forward, Picard’s mind rendering them, so that Spock could view them as he would a simulation on a holodeck.

It began with Picard’s vision inside the nexus; the offer of a family and through it, contentment.  He also saw Jean-Luc recognize the small anomalies through the blinking, star-bright ornaments, and aided by Guinan, further his suspicion of the nexus to ultimately break free of its hold.  Guinan then mentioned one who could aid Picard in his mission before the memories shifted, and a new environment appeared.

He beheld him then, his appearance exactly as it had been seventy-eight years ago.  It was his mate, his _t’hy’la_ , his Jim.  He was simply chopping wood, but Spock drank in his visage as a man dying of thirst would; in one long draught that was not nearly enough to quench the ache of its extended absence.  Jim looked as beautiful as ever and Spock’s love and adoration soared at seeing him.

He studied every detail, every word, every movement with unrivaled concentration.  He saw it all; the small house, Butler the great dane, the clock, the Ktarian eggs, the barn in Idaho, the horses. 

It was then a wave of guilt crashed against him, emanating from Jean-Luc’s mind, peaking in intensity when Jim spoke of Antonia.  Spock’s neural pathways flared, his mind gasping at her mention.

Before he could process all that it could mean, Picard’s memories continued.  He watched as his mate’s sense of duty, his love of adventure, and his belief in saving those around him, freed him from the nexus.  Jim looked back, sparing one last glance at the shadowy figure of Antonia astride her horse, before joining Picard.

Together they saved two hundred thirty million from Soran’s heinous machinations.  And as had happened before, Jim’s proclivity for self-sacrifice cost him.  He watched in agony as his _t’hy’la_ perished, drawing his last breath.  The final moment stretched and faded, before turning to endless black.  He ended the meld.  There was no more to see.

With his loss compounded by the vision of Jim’s death, Spock was rendered mute.  Picard eyes were pained, filled with gentle grief.  “I’m sorry, Spock.  I didn’t know how to tell you, but I also didn’t want to lie, even by omission.”

Though it took several more moments to process Jean-Luc’s words, but once understood, Spock’s brow creased in confusion, trying to decipher in his grief what Picard felt he might have omitted to protect Spock.  Picard must have taken his silence and perplexed countenance as further shock.

“The whole nexus fantasy seemed so out of character for him, for what I know of and studied about Captain Kirk.  Grounded?  Permanently?  On a farm?  It made no sense.”  Picard rambled on, “So maybe Antonia was, too.  The nexus – “

“Antonia is what you believe would cause me further sorrow?”  Picard was hesitant to confirm, but by the blood rushing to color his cheeks, it appeared to be an accurate statement.  Spock’s lips twitched, the left corner barely ticking up into a genuine, Vulcan smile.  “You need not worry, Jean-Luc.  Antonia was the name my mother would have given me, had I been born female.”

Picard’s eyes widen.  “Then, that was Captain Kirk’s…ultimate desire of you?”  Jean-Luc looked further puzzled.  “I’m sorry, Spock, but I’m still confused.”

Spock felt sympathy for the human before him and explained.  “Since your initial communications last week, I have researched all I could obtain about the nexus, including your formal report.  The nexus is indeed powerful.  It projects and gives the entity captured within it their most desired life in order to imprison them within.  But it does have its limitations and flaws, as you were able to discern.  One limitation is its inability to replicate telepathic bonds.  Jim would have known he was trapped within a mirage had the nexus tried to recreate me or our bond.  So, it settled for something much more mundane and believable, yet still compelling enough to keep Jim trapped.”

Understanding dawned in Picard’s eyes.  “So, you were changed to Antonia, something he knew about you that was also abstract.  He knew he wanted and needed her, but she was vague; an entity with no hard concept.”

“Indeed.  And the nexus didn’t have to provide one.  No face, no way to meet; just a figure always in the distance, just beyond his reach.  But it was enough to keep him there.”

Picard blew out a small breath.  “I can’t say I’m not partially relieved his fantasy was you after all.  I didn’t want add to your grief.”

“Your concern is appreciated.”

“Truthfully, ever since melding with your father, I feel a kinship to you that sometimes astounds me.”

Spock dared not examine the statement too deeply, so he merely replied, “It is not unexpected.”

Picard turned then, picking up the briefcase he’d brought with him.  Setting it on his lap, he opened it with a press of his thumb on the biometric sensor, the lock clicking audibly.  “The Federation and Starfleet wanted me to present these to you in a big ceremony, but I convinced them it was unwise and in poor taste.”

Spock heaved an internal sigh of relief.  He would not have managed well in such circumstances.  “I appreciate your influence in the matter.”

Jean-Luc handed him two items; a holo-emitter and a small, square box.  When he pressed the activation button on the holo-emitter, a certificate of heroism flashed, honoring Captain James Tiberius Kirk and his sacrifice for the peoples of Veridian IV.  Though he had supposedly died while in service seventy-eight years prior, Jim was conferred full honors due a current member of Starfleet and the Federation.  He placed the holo-emitter in his lap and opened the small box.  Inside was a medal for the Karagite Order of Heroism, and further award ribbons for valor, honor, and conspicuous gallantry.  They were rich in gesture, but hollow in worth.  He would rather have had his husband beside him than any material possession.

Picard spoke gently, “I can stay if you need – “

Spock shook his head once.  “I appreciate your compassion, but it is not necessary.  I would prefer to be alone.  I must also meditate, especially after a meld.”

“Of course.”  With that, Picard closed the briefcase, and they both stood, walking to the door.  He turned as the door swished open, holding up the _ta’al_.  “Live long and prosper, Spock.”

“Peace and long life, Jean-Luc.”

He watched as Picard left, the door closing and locking behind him on Spock’s command.  He then walked to his meditation mat and fell sharply to his knees, his emotions running over.  He was not as strong in his emotional disciplines as he used to be; old age and losses had worn his self-control thin.

He was devastated by what he had learned.  The nexus had used him to keep Jim caged.  He had been Jim’s prison, the one thing Jim wanted but couldn’t obtain.  It had been such a minor detail to share, a small moment among so many in their lives together, and yet, it had becoming a defining one.

Burying his face in his hands, he began weeping, the wetness of his tears pooling in his palms as he chanted the name of his _t’hy’la_ over and over again, falling haphazardly into a memory from long ago.

~~~~

_“Fuck, Spock!  I’m…I…ah!”  Jim came with a wild shout, his legs wrapped around Spock’s waist, squeezing and spasming as the orgasm wracked his body.  Spock’s hand, which had been fervently stroking Jim’s cock, gave once last full stroke, base to tip, lightly squeezing the head to successfully extract the last pearled drop, the last shudder of pleasure from Jim, before releasing his mate.  Shifting, Spock leaned further over Jim, arms and body caging him in and with several deep, forceful thrusts of his hips, he joined Jim in ecstasy, coming deep inside his t’hy’la._

_For several moments, Spock could not form coherent thoughts nor engage his muscles to move.  Their joinings were always this way:  explosive, earth-shattering, and overwhelming.  These moments were precious to them; the ability to shed their mantles of officers of the USS Enterprise to just simply exist as husbands and mates._

_He gazed at Jim, whose eyes were still closed in post-coital bliss, and admired the flushed pink skin covered in his own release, all while Spock remained buried inside him.  He did not care to move, but he knew he must.  Gingerly, he pulled out of Jim, both gasping at the loss of connection.  Rolling to one side, he laid down beside Jim, and but for their pants, they laid together in peaceful silence._

_Jim was the first to recover.  “Gods, Spock.  That was amazing.  We really need to take vacation more often.  It’s the only time I get to have you that way.”_

_Spock huffed a small breath.  “Were you not so boisterous and vocal in expressing your pleasure, I would most assuredly penetrate you more often.”_

_Jim chuckled.  “Sorry, babe.  You know it’s impossible.”  Jim turned his head, winking at Spock with an impish grin.  “And anyway, I happen to know you love me ‘expressing my pleasure.’  And it’s not as if the Enterprise’s quarters aren’t soundproof.”_

_Spock turned fully to his mate.  “And as I have mentioned, we shared connecting quarters for years before becoming intimate.  They are not as soundproof as you believe them to be.”_

_“Maybe not for Vulcan ears,” he grumbled._

_“There were and are other species aboard the Enterprise, besides human and Vulcan.”  Without consciously realizing it, the timbre of his voiced changed, deepening as he growled out, “And I will not have others hear your cries.  They are for my ears only.  They are mine as you are mine.”_

_“Whoa there, babe.  It’s okay.”  Jim reached out, stroking his fingers lightly down Spock’s cheek.  “You know I love possessive Spock and all, but I can’t go another round just yet.  Especially not one that intense.”_

_Spock took a deep breath to calm himself.  He would defer to better judgement for now, but he would claim his mate again later, marking him and reminding him to whom he belonged._

_Jim smiled, attempting to steer the conversation back to light-hearted territory with playfulness.  “Plus, your little telepathic tricks don’t help, you know.”_

_Spock looked at his mate in an approximation of disbelief.  “I know not of what you speak.”_

_Jim laughed heartily then, his eyes bright with love and amusement.  He leaned over and pecked a quick kiss to Spock’s lips.  “You can’t fool me, you sneaky Vulcan.  I’ve been married to you too long.”_

_It only happened in private, but Spock broke into a relaxed smile, reserved only for the effervescent being beside him.  “I do enjoy watching you come apart for me, especially when you are impaled on my cock.”  He took his thumb and ran it across Jim’s bottom lip, shivering from the sensation against his sensitive digit._

_That dangerous mouth and the things it had done to Spock’s body, the sounds it uttered, had driven him to near insanity with pleasure.  His voice deepened further as he said, “And indeed, I enjoy the sounds I can elicit from your lips, particularly after employing my ‘telepathic tricks.’  It further intensifies their resonance.”_

_“Watch it, mister,” Jim warned, eyes darkening with rekindled desire.  “I may not be as young as I used to be, but this conversation is definitely not going to get us out of this bed anytime soon.”_

_Though it was tempting, Spock knew they needed to get up and dress for the day.  There were few chores to do, but they did have them, and they needed completion before the end of the day._

_They were currently secluded on a farm in Idaho, bequeathed to Jim by his uncle.  The uncle had had no children, and from the stories Jim had shared, he and his uncle had developed a special bond._

_His uncle had run an outreach program at the farm, helping trouble youth.  In fact, Jim became one of his wards after the horrors of Tarsus IV.  Both of Jim’s parents felt it could help him reconnect with the world in smaller steps, without too much pressure from the outside world; he could heal in relative peace.  Though he didn’t talk about Tarsus much, if at all, it seemed the time here had fulfilled its purpose and for that, Spock would be forever grateful._

_When the property became theirs, they hired a caretaker to look after the property during the times they were out on assignment, but they came back every now and then to spend a week in relative peace and quiet.  Being surrounded by nature and wide-open sky always left them feeling well rested by the end._

_Jim had also made sure the outreach program stayed open all year long, which meant horse stalls and mowing and other chores had to be done year-round, including while they were on vacation.  Never one to sit idle, Jim took on the chores while in residence.  It seemed to make him happy to engage in the manual labor.  On this visit, Jim had also taken it upon himself to try and teach Spock how to ride a horse, though it seemed a thoroughly failed experiment from his viewpoint._

_Decision made, they both reluctantly left the bed, completed their morning ablutions, and ate a light breakfast.  As they opened the front door to head for the barn, the children had arrived for the day, passing them as they stood on the front porch.  Jim greeted them with a pleased smile, but when they were done filing past, melancholia seeped across the bond, before Jim shuttered it, pulling it back._

_“Jim, what distresses you?”_

_“Oh, not distress.  Not really.  Just a human failing.”  Jim sighed.  “More like, ‘what ifs.’”_

_“What ifs?”_

_Jim was quiet for a few moments before asking, “Did you ever think about having children?  I mean, us, having kids together?”_

_Spock answered easily.  “Affirmative.”_

_Amber eyes widened in surprise.  “Really?  When?”_

_“After we had been bonded a few years, before Khan.  I considered it.  But other things came to be, and the moment passed.  Did you?”_

_“Yeah.  But then, I lost all the children I ever had.  The child with Miramanee didn’t even get a chance to be born, and I lost David before I really got to know him.”  Echoes of grief flickered in his eyes and wafted across the bond.  Jim’s voice became soft, pained.  “And I lost you.  Seemed like a bad idea to bring a child into our lives when everyone around me leaves before their time.”_

_“Jim, surely you do not believe you are at fault for these events?”_

_“Aren’t I?”_

_“T’hy’la.  Adun.  Unfortunate circumstances occur.  Kaiidth.  We can only claim responsibility of our decisions and actions to the circumstances.”_

_Jim sighed, the heaviness of his guilt burdening his voice.  “I know.  Logically, I know that.  Here.”  He tapped his temple, before he moved and tapped above his heart.  “But here?  It sure feels like I’m responsible.”  Jim paused, appearing unsure of his next statement.  “Would you indulge another human failing?”_

_Spock lifted his hand, his fingertips reaching out to trace the worried lines of Jim’s brow.  “If it pleases you and erases your worry.”_

_“What would you have named our children?  Did you ever have any names you’d have chosen?”_

_Spock had not.  It was illogical to do so when such children never existed.  But he could feel Jim’s sadness permeating the bond and desired to put his mate at ease.  If contemplating names for children they never had would do so, then it was an easy choice.  He surprised himself when the names came simply enough, once he thought on it.  “Selek for a male offspring.”_

_“Vulcan, right?  A family name?”_

_“Yes, in a way.”_

_“And if the child was a girl?”_

_“Antonia.”_

_Jim’s brow creased.  “That’s definitely not Vulcan.  Why Antonia?”_

_“It was the name my mother would have bestowed upon me had I been born female.  She chose it for its meaning; priceless, as she told me many times that I was, as the first ever Vulcan-Human hybrid.”_

_“Huh.  You an Antonia instead of Spock?”  Jim’s eyes brightened.  “You know, you’d have made one hell of a stunning female.  With those cheekbones, long legs, and lithe body?  Add long, sleek black hair and warm, brown eyes.  There’d be nobody who could resist you.  Couple that with your will and spirit and mind?  Unstoppable.”  Jim smirked, his playful mischievousness lightening the mood.  “Not that you aren’t, as you are, the most striking, gorgeous, ridiculously beautiful Vulcan I’ve ever seen.”_

_“You are incorrigible.”_

_Jim shrugged.  “Maybe.  But it’s completely truthful nonetheless.”  Jim tilted his head, gesturing at the barn.  “Come on.  Let’s get these chores done, so we can have lunch and end up in bed again.”  Jim ended his pronouncement with a beaming smile and wagging eyebrows._

_He was indeed incorrigible, but Spock would have him no other way.  He followed Jim, as he would always follow him._

~~~~

The memory faded, bringing with it the cold, hard reality of the present where he’s suffered the loss of his _t’hy’la_ once more.  He found himself collapsed on the floor, curled into himself, his arms crossed over his abdomen.  His self-control was eroding, and suffering the loss of his mate not once, but twice, had taken its toll.

He rolled to his hands and knees, slowly rising from his failed meditation.  He used the walls for support as he made his way to the kitchen; his body’s autonomic and somatic systems still too overwhelmed.  He felt unmoored, uneasy, and nauseous.  He carefully brewed tea, hoping the combination of spiced herbs and warmth would help calm him.

He sat, drinking, still and silent in contemplation.  He cataloged every minute detail from the meld but found little comfort.  Though his mind railed against it, he forced himself to reprocess the memory that was now tainted with sorrow; an innocent exchange of information that led to such devastation.

But within that devastation, a sudden possibility sparked, and with it, the blossoming of hope.  His breath stuttered, his chest squeezing with anticipation as he realized there was also an answer within the memory:  Selek.  It was the name he gave for a son who never was, but it was also the name he had given when he had traveled back in time to save his younger self.  His heart thudded in his side.  The Guardian of Forever could show him any timeline, any place.  He could go back, ensure Jim was never on the Enterprise B.  He would never enter the Nexus.  He would not die.  And they would regain all the years they had lost.

His mind began spinning scenarios and computing calculations.  Pushing back in his chair, he strode to his office down the hallway, pulling up all his information on the time portal known as The Guardian and the nexus.  He would need to be certain, conclusive, before altering any timelines and pinpoint his trajectory with utmost precision.

Long hours passed, though it seemed like mere minutes with his mind so actively engaged.  He looked at the computer’s calculations, comparing them with all the notes he’d accumulated on his PADD. 

In the end, there appeared to be only one viable solution: save Jim before he fell to his death on Veridian III.  Though he wanted his _t’hy’la_ with him more than he dared examine for a Vulcan, he could not sacrifice two hundred thirty million Veridians.  The needs of the many outweighed his need for one.  He could not refute an axiom he still held dear.

He had all the information from the meld with Picard, the exact moments of when and where each of them would be.  There was a smaller chance of paradoxes, and a shorter timeline being altered.  It was logical.

But what finally swayed him was the prospect that his and Jim’s age would correspond more closely.  He felt shame at his selfishness, but the possibility was too strong to resist.  He would not be made to suffer losing Jim to a human’s shorter lifespan, for he was now a much older Vulcan.  He could give up the seventy-eight years Jim was in the nexus for the promise of growing old together; the fear of one of them leaving so much earlier than the other, eradicated.

The only issue was getting to The Guardian.  Due to its ability to alter entire timelines, it was under guard, strictly for approved observatory purposes only.  He would be naturally suspect after Jim’s loss and though he had scientific and ambassadorial privileges, he suspected he would be denied the necessary approvals.  The potential of having Jim back created an unbearable ache, and he knew, without a doubt, that he would do what needed done in order to bring him back.  He would plan carefully but quickly; the sooner the better where time was concerned.

The next seventy-two hours were a blur; papers flying and statistics mounting, as he laid out the parameters for his journey.  Once satisfied, he stood back in triumph.  A tingling sensation pricked along his spine, spreading outward towards his hands and down his legs: excitement.  He was excited that his _t’hy’la_ , after so long an absence, was within his reach.  Every cell in his body hungered, yearning for Jim’s return.

He turned, legs tasked with purposeful strides as he began packing what he needed: a phaser, a cloak, his calculations, and a tricorder.  There was one other item he needed, a fail-safe, which he would obtain on the way.  Beyond that, all he required was his single-manned prototype ship, stealth, and darkness.

The hours spent waiting until dusk were agonizing, but they finally came.  As he walked out the door, he stopped to make one last change.  Satisfied he could do no more to prepare, he wrapped the cloak about him and journeyed in secret to the Vulcan High Council’s personal dry dock.  Using access codes he had credentialed to a non-existent dignitary, he boarded the craft, left dry dock, and shot to warp eight as soon as he cleared orbit.

It would not take long to reach the Rock of Ages, the home planet of The Guardian.  But as he sat, ticking through each objective, reminding himself of each one’s purpose and desired outcome, a war began to rage within his mind.  The journey was too short to contemplate further scenarios, or the further debate the morality of his decision, yet long enough for the anticipation of success and the anxiety of failure to increase exponentially.

Before he could scrutinize it further, the ship’s HUD beeped with a preprogrammed warning.  He was close.  He engaged the cloaking device he had hastily retrofitted and installed; his time on Romulus coupled with a particular mission on the Enterprise proving invaluable.  As an ambassador and former officer in Starfleet, he also knew how to program the computer to evade being picked up by the Federation’s sensors.  He would need to land on the Guardian’s planet undetected, or as near to undetected as possible. 

Slowing to warp one, and eventually dropping out to impulse power, he waited, looking for signs that he had been detected.  Ten minutes crawled by.  When no alarms sounded, and he was at his desired landing point, he took the craft in and landed. 

He was further from the Guardian than strictly necessary, but he was taking no chances for the success of his mission.  He could not afford to be caught.  For this to all be for naught.  The walk to the time portal would take sixty-seven minutes.  Jim was so close, he could barely contain the anticipatory vibration of his nerves.  His eyebrow quirked.  After all these years, he finally understood the human phrase, “butterflies in my stomach.”  For once, the humans had accurately described the sensation.

Spock hoisted his pack of supplies onto his back, left the ship, and began his journey.  It was not long before Spock observed light perspiration beginning in certain areas of his body, though Vulcans rarely sweated.  He had underestimated his nervousness at this endeavor if his human genetics were overriding his Vulcan biology.

Time proved to be a dichotomy; the journey advancing at a snail’s pace and yet progressing with swift relentlessness.  Spock was caught off guard when he came to the outskirts of The Guardian’s protected barrier; his mind’s preoccupation altering his time-sense.  He berated himself for his lack of focus.  He could not afford another lapse in composure.

He crouched, his cloak blending in with the blackness of the night and waited for the guard in this quadrant to pass.  He would be through the portal and back out before the guard would awaken from the phaser’s stun.  The alarms would sound, once The Guardian activated, but it would be too late to stop what he had planned.  Part of the portal’s abilities brought the traveler back out to almost the precise moment they entered.  He would disappear before the additional guards arrived.

A twinge of doubt surfaced.  He could lose everything if he was caught: his ambassadorship, his honorable retirement from Starfleet, his freedom.  He dismissed it.  Without Jim, those other accomplishments held little joy.  He did them diligently, thoroughly, and logically, yes, for the greater good, but they were tarnished, tainted by the loss of his husband.  To have lived so long without his _t’hy’la_ had cost him greatly.

But now, he was on the verge of setting things right and would worry no further.  After all, as certain as there was a universe where he went on without Jim to the end of his days, there was this universe, where he chose to save his _t’hy’la_.  Infinite universes, infinite possibilities.

His Vulcan ears heard the rustling and pounding of the guard’s steps long before he saw him.  Readying his phaser, he aimed and fired.  The guard fell, crumbling to the ground with a thud.  He ran to him, placed his fingers on the guard’s psi points and whispered, “Sleep.”  He only needed enough time between this guard’s walk and the next to enter The Guardian, and this would ensure the guard would not wake before completing his task.

Once inside the vortex, time’s march forward would not matter.  So as long as his way was clear going in, he would be able to make it back out with none the wiser.  Time would alter, and all would be as it should have been.

He sprinted, reaching the Guardian precisely as he had calculated.  Mere moments passed before he felt the air charge with energy and ripple, The Guardian flashing with light as it awakened to greet its visitor.  And as he predicted, alarms began to sound.

“You have returned.  It was foreseen.”

Spock registered surprise, but had little time to converse, so he was blunt in his reply.  “You once offered to be a gateway to many journeys.  I request but one.”

“Ask, and it shall be granted.”

Spock’s voice quivered only slightly as he made his request; his heart’s rapid hammering drumming in his ears as his soul trembled in eagerness.  “Veridian III, 2.146 Federation weeks ago, on the far side of the planet, where the time ribbon known as the nexus will pass.”

“You seek the one who is to silence millions.”  The Guardian paused.  “No, time unaltered solves the madman’s whims.  It is the other that you seek to save.  The one whom has passed through my gates with you twice before.”

“Yes.”  Spock flinched.  His need was transparent.  But he had come this far.  He would not turn back.

The Guardian’s inside began to flash, and Spock pulled out his tricorder, viewing the history of Veridian III, what little there was of it on the uninhabited planet, as it sped by in the Guardian’s center.  He saw the tell-tale flicker of the Nexus’ first pass over the planet and watched the planet explode, then gather itself, to try and repeat it once more.  It was now or never.  He jumped.

Dust flew up as he landed hard on the desert-like surface of the planet.  He did not recognize the terrain; it did not appear to be as he saw in Picard’s mind.  With rapid twists, he cast about, eyes darting and scanning for anything that would orient him.  That’s when he heard the yells.  Homing in on the direction, he sprinted.  With every bit of his superior Vulcan speed and strength called forth, Spock raced against time and a growing, gut-wrenching fear.  He was so close.  Failure was not an option.

It took no time at all, in the vastness of time and space, but he arrived mere moments later than he had calculated.  Jim and Picard had already physically fought Soran, for two hundred fifty meters ahead, Picard was dangling his hand out to Jim, which would save him from plunging to certain death.  Though Spock knew if he did not get there soon, before Jim attempted his second crossing, his husband would perish regardless.

He wanted to call out, prevent Jim from ever traversing the bridge that hung precipitously from the cliff wall.  But he must also guarantee Veridian’s people were saved.  The needs of the many still outweighed his singular need to have Jim safe by his side.

He sprinted, climbing rocks with haste, but again, he arrived seconds too late.  Jim was perched on the end of the bridge.  He could not add his weight to the bridge, nor call out.  If Jim startled, he could lose his concentration, or miscalculate the jump, or lose his hold, or fail to grab the controller for the trilithium missile.

Instead, Spock ripped the supply pack off his back and dug into it, quickly donning his fail-safe, the last contingency.  Any further miscalculations, any deviations, and it would result in Jim’s death.

Though he could not visually observe it with his own eyes, he knew what happened next.  He heard the thud as Jim landed on the other side of the quickly deteriorating bridge.  In his mind’s eye, he saw Jim snatch the controller at the last moment.

With no time left, Spock pressed the button on his belt, igniting the fuel that propelled him to Jim’s side within an instant, Jim’s arm still outstretched from where he had aimed at the missile, pressing the button that uncloaked it.  Grabbing Jim’s outstretched arm, he yanked Jim forcefully to him; grasping, clinging, and crushing his _t’hy’la_ to him.  They shot upward, missing the careening bridge by meager centimeters.

His soul and mind rang out in unadulterated joy.  The man he held within his arms was whole and safe.  _Alive_.  Alive and breathing the same air for the first time in seventy-eight years.  Spock’s mind was chaos; a swirling mass of emotions that so overwhelmed him, he almost missed the soft gasp of “Spock?” muffled in his chest.

He shifted Jim’s weight to be able to reach the controls on the belt and adjust the descent for their combined weight. 

The descent was steeper than normally advised and they touched down with a clunk.  He must leave before Picard came to search for Jim.  He must finish his role here and step back through The Guardian.  He must not get lost in the luxury of Jim’s presence.  It was the mantra he kept repeating to himself when he finally looked at Jim’s face and got lost within bright, golden amber.

“Spock?  It’s really you?”

“Yes, Jim.”  Spock wanted, illogically, to crush Jim to him, to try and absorb every molecule, his very essence.  It meant they could never be physically parted again.  “ _Jim._ ”

“How did you…how are you here?”

Spock lifted his hands, cupping Jim’s face, gently tugging until their foreheads bumped together.  “I do not have time to explain, for I must depart before Jean-Luc reaches us.”  Spock’s brow furrowed; everything inside him railed against leaving his _t’hy’la_ again.

“But, Spock.  I – “

“Jim, please.  _Listen_.”  Spock pulled back, his eyes pleading.  “You must not mention my presence to Captain Picard.  It is imperative if we are to be together again.  Once inquiries with the Federation and Starfleet are complete, once you’ve made your reports and filed your depositions, come and find me on Vulcan.  The door will open to you; I have coded it to do so.  Wait for me there.  I should arrive 2.146 weeks after today.”

Jim’s eyes squinted with wariness.  “Why exactly 2.146 weeks?  Why can’t you stay and tell – “

“No,” Spock barked.  Spock inhaled deep, calming his nerves and riotous emotions.  “We do not have the time.  But we will soon.  And I will tell you everything then.”  He gazed into his husband’s eyes; eyes he had been bereft of for far too long.  “Trust me.”

Jim’s eyes softened, a crooked, adoring smile gracing his features.  “Always, Mister Spock.”

He again tugged on Jim, this time crushing their lips together in a promise of all that was to come.  As he stroked his thumbs lovingly along Jim’s cheeks, he whispered out, “I will see you again soon.”

He placed one last kiss, gentle and sweet, to Jim’s lips.  The hardest moment came when he had to turn away from his _t’hy’la_ , heading up the rocks to make it out of line of Picard’s sight.

Mere seconds later, he perceived the trudging of Picard’s footsteps and the surprise in his voice as he exclaimed, “Captain Kirk!  You’re unharmed?!” 

Spock’s superior hearing caught Jim’s soft chuckle before he said, “Apparently, my guardian angel is still looking out for me after all these years.”

Picard’s voice was still heavy with disbelief.  “That’s some angel. It’s nothing short of a miracle your uninjured.”

Jim laughed again, louder and clearer, the sound reverberating against the cliff walls.  It was a sound Spock thought lost to him forever.

“You’ve read history.  I mean, I’m a good tactician and decent in a scuffle, don’t get me wrong.  But that guardian angel?  They’ve always been there, watching over me.  Because I should have been dead long ago for some of the stuff I’ve done.”

Jim paused, and Spock’s gut clenched in horror at Jim’s easy pronouncement of his death, though he readily admitted it was not untrue.  The Enterprise and her crew had escaped their demise time and time again.  Spock was inclined to believe in the intelligence and ingenuity of her crew and command team.  But a small part of him, the Vulcan in him, knew that logically, statistically, they should not have survived all the encounters they did. 

An old memory echoed, resurfacing, and he found himself, whether through old age, experience, or sentiment, believing in luck.  That’s when Jim continued, softer, his voice laced with an emotion Spock had heard many times: love.

“They’re the reason I believe in miracles.”

Spock’s soul, his very _katra_ , sang.  But he could not wait for further pronouncements of love.  Creeping far enough away to conceal the noise of reigniting the jet boots, he hit the thrusters, soaring in the air and over the canyon to opposite wall where his pack lay.  Though covered with debris and dust, it remained intact.

He removed his gear quickly, packing it away.  As he hoisted the pack onto his back, he spared one last glance down the canyon.  He drank in the sight of his _t’hy’la_ once last time, before tearing himself away, running back to his entry point.  He jumped through the portal, landing once again on hard rock, dust billowing at his feet.

He had barely noted his surroundings before The Guardian intoned, “Time has resumed, though altered, changed from once it was.  Should you desire further journeys, I remain your gateway.”

Spock turned to the Guardian, resolute.  “What you offer is a dangerous proposition and one I endeavor to never attempt again.”

“Perhaps.  Though I will not be alone.  There will always be others seeking my gift.”

Spock could not stay to inquire after The Guardian’s words; a rustle to his right alerting him to a guard’s presence.  He must leave, or risk being captured.  He darted to the left, hiding, blending into the shadows.

Once he was assured no one followed, he relied on the famed Vulcan stamina to arrive at his ship in half the time.  If coming to the planet was fraught with the anxiety of failure and capture, his trek back to his ship and back to Vulcan was infinitely more so.  Would he be caught?  Would anyone suspect?  Would Jim be waiting for him when he arrived?  And if not, what would Spock do?  The closer he got to Vulcan, the more his emotions overwhelmed him.

His reentry and docking were without incident and when all traces of the ship’s journey were erased, he proceeded directly home under the cover of Vulcan’s moonless night.

Reaching his door, he held his palm up to the scanner and heard the click of locks disengaging as the door swished open.  The house was shrouded in darkness, still and silent.  Ordering the lights at fifty percent, he scanned his surroundings, eyes darting from wall to wall and to floor to ceiling for anything out of place, anything that would alert him to Jim’s presence, anything confirming that Jim existed, here and now, with him, in this time and space.

But he saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing moved from its proper place.  His heart screamed in denial.  His _katra_ felt as if it were glass, fragile and splintered, ready to shatter at any moment.  Perhaps, he was never meant to have his miracle, his happy ever after.

It hit him then.  If Jim had gained access, the security logs would show it.  But before he could access them, he caught the faintest sound; a small, stuttering hum coming from the hallway.  He tore through the living area and down the hallway, stopping just inside the threshold of his bedroom as he beheld the only thing that mattered to him in the entirety of the universe.

Laying in his bed, wrapped in one of Spock’s Vulcan robes and snoring softly, was Jim.  His Jim.  He was here.  _Here_.  _Alive_.  And sleeping peacefully.

Spock gasped, dragging in air to his suddenly needy lungs, crying out as his legs collapsed under him, his knees smarting with a resounding smack against the floor.  He felt tears once again glide down his cheeks as he struggled to inflate his lungs.

Jim woke, startled by the noise, his eyes quickly assessing.  He bounded off the bed to Spock’s side.  “Spock, hush babe.  It’s okay.  I’m here.  I’m _here_.”

“Jim!”  They embraced each other, crushing their bodies together.  All sense of time was lost.  How long they held each other, breathing the same air, existing within the same space, he could not say.  Only once his body and mind returned to a semblance of normal parameters, did he pull back to gaze upon his _t’hy’la_.

Jim smiled at him, soft and sweet, lifting his hand to brush lightly across Spock’s psi points and along his cheekbones and ears and eyebrows, tracing the lines of his face.  “You know, it’s been pretty crazy these last two weeks.  It’s a bit sensational to be alive, especially seventy-eight years after being declared dead.  But when I wasn’t dealing with the bureaucratic red tape and ceremonies, I was thinking about you.”  Jim paused, his eyes intense.  “I figured out what you did.”

“Jim, I – “

“It’s okay,” Jim gentled.  “I know why you did it, but are you certain my death didn’t serve a purpose?  That my being here, altering the timeline, won’t have repercussions?”

“Your death served no purpose other than to eviscerate me and rob me of your presence,” he said, the words clipped and heated.  “You needed not die pointlessly because of one man’s treachery.  That you are here proves Veridian’s system and its people could be saved without your untimely death.”

Spock began shaking again, the memories crashing against him once more.  Jim soothed him until the tremors left and he was once again calm.

Jim sighed, a small, quirked smile gracing his features.  “Don’t berate yourself too much.  You know I would’ve done the same for you.”

“You already did.  You brought me back from death.  Gave me new life.”  Spock grasped tighter to Jim, peering into lovely pools of liquid amber.  “Just as you could not leave me, I could not leave you.”  Spock’s voice broke, raw and raspy.  “Not when I could save you.”

Jim smiled, his face glowing with love and adoration.  “Then let’s just agree to not to leave each other ever again.  There’s been quite enough of that, don’t you think?”

“Agreed.”  Without warning, Spock sagged into Jim, a fortnight’s worth of exhaustion settling deep. 

“Come on, babe.  Let’s crawl into bed.  You’re about to collapse.”

Spock merely nodded as they both stood, though neither let go of the other, as if another separation so soon would be too much to bear.

They laid down on the bed facing each other, legs tangled, breaths mingling, brushing across lips.  Spock trembled.  There was one last thing he needed, but he feared asking for.

“Spock?  What’s wrong?”

“I am…emotionally compromised.  And I cannot – I am unable to control all my responses and functions.”

Jim peered at him, brow furrowing in concern.  “But that’s not all, is it?  What else?”

“I desire –,” Spock breath shuddered, his fingers flexing with need.  “I need to touch your mind.  To be fully bonded once more.”

Jim broke into a relieved, brilliant smile, though his voice held a hint of admonishment.  “ _Adun._ You have me.  All of me.  Always.”

Spock shook his head.  “But I am…fearful.  My mind is chaotic.  This has been more arduous than I anticipated.  I do not want to hurt you with my lack of control.”

Jim’s hands crept up to cradle his face, eyes conveying an intensity as bright as Vulcan’s dual suns.  “You could never hurt me.”   Thumbs stroked gently along his cheekbones.  “You asked me to trust you back there on Veridian III, so trust me.  Trust yourself.  You will not hurt me.”  Then Jim reached down with one hand, grabbing Spock’s right and tugged lightly, placing it on his face.  Spock gasped at the sensations, the overwhelming emotions bleeding over from Jim.  Jim whispered, “One and together.”

Spock’s _katra_ craved completion.  He pulled an uneven breath into his lungs; his nerves abuzz, his entire body prickling in expectation.  He aligned his fingers to Jim’s psi points, and pressed firm, murmuring, “My mind to your mind.  My thoughts to your thoughts.”

The clash of their minds was like the birth of a newborn star: white-hot, dazzling, and exquisite.  Their bond, long dormant, frayed and broken, was reforged; a live wire crackling with renewed energy, untamed and fathomless.

They both trembled at the all-consuming reconnection; the blinding brightness of their minds and souls wrapped together, intertwined once more, drowning out all else.

Secure and whole, enveloped in their love, was how they fell asleep, how they awoke the next morning, and how they began the next chapter of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


End file.
